Kya Hoga Shastry Ka Chapter 3 " The Great Hari!

[Request you all to forgive me for any mistakes or loose threads that you may come across in this blog. Please understand I am in shock.

 I am still recovering from Drona.

I had come out of the theater yesterday with tears rolling down my eyes.

“That’s money for 4 beers wasted”, wailed my mind, and my heart joined in the lament.

Truly had some reviewer said in his review, “The “D” is silent in the movie’s name”.]

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Before we start today’s article, I would request you all for a moment of solemn silence. A moment of deference for the thousands of valiant chickens that laid down their lives so that today we may write the story of the living legend Hari. Chicken, that in their tens and hundreds died bravely, stoically in dirty mess kitchens, in blazing tandoors, on tortuous grills in shady dhabas. Chicken that gave up their souls to the Almighty, and their juicy legs, tender thighs, and thick padded breasts unto the holy mission of keeping the Great Hari well fed and well rounded.

Hari is the India Gate of Chicken.

For a chicken to be slaughtered so that Hari may one day feast on it is an honorable death. It is the “flowery death” of the Aztecs. It is the honorable death in war of a Kshatriya – one that leads to high Heaven and salvation. Much like Arjuna did to Abhimanyu, loving hens bring up their little ones still in their shells on the tales of the Great Hari. Little chicken grow up, dreaming that when their time comes to go up on the tandoor, it will not be for some idiotic Punjabi langur, but for the Great Hari. That one day, his name too will be inscribed on this India Gate.

Please close your eyes, keep your right hand on your tummy, and join me in this dirge –

Aye mere watan ke moton,

Tum khoob laga lo dakaar

Pet pe haath ferke bolo

“Waah! Majaa aa gaya yaar!”

Par mat bhoolo tandoor par

Murgiyon ne hai praan ganvaaye

Kuch yaad unhe bhi kar lo

Kuch yaad unhe bhi kar lo

Jinke ande kabhi baap ka

Pyaar bhi na paaye

Aye mere watan ke moton,

Zara munh me bhar lo paani

Jo tikka bane hain unki

Zara yaad karo taste mastaani

Koi sikh koi jaat koi maraatha

Koi gurakha koi madaraasi

[Koi haath me liye chawal aur koi paratha]

Mess me khaanewaala

Har bhukka tha leg piece ka abhilaashi

Jo khoon gira kitchen me

Wo baha le gaya ek murge ki jawaani

Jo shaheed hue hain unki

Zara yaad karo taste mastaani..

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Yeah, you may open your eyes now, and we may begin the story of my encounter with Hari the Great.

Hari was also my batchmate at IIMB. He was my floor-mate too.

[ok…for all those guys reading this blog to learn good English, a floor mate is not somebody you mate with on the floor. That would be your house-maid. A floor mate is technically somebody who has a room on the same floor in a hostel block as you]

We were 7 guys of our batch on the first floor of E-Block. E First.

And only two of us ever had any real intentions or hope of completing the course in the stipulated (and recommended, strongly) two years. For the rest of us it was a small miracle come true. Hari was one of those two.

Before I go on to tell you what Hari said to me, during the time that I had taken up abode at his humble residence in Bandra West (I felt so humbled when he told me the rent he was paying for it), let me first firmly imprint the image of Hari in your mind; For the Guru’s appearance – his calm smile, his flowing locks, the gentle glow on his face – is half his message.

God was not making Hari when he was making Hari.

He was making something huge, round, whose many parts would bounce even if it were just walking. But some monkey up there would have jerked the hand of the Great Professor and chemical C (C for? Chicken, but of course) got added into the potion and what resulted was a powderpuff that could speak in human languages.

Hari is spherical – so what? So is the universe, and the earth, and all the other planets. Come to think of it, if Hari were to be a planet it would be a toss up between Jupiter and Saturn. Jupiter obviously because of the size, but then Saturn has those many tyres around its tummy just like Hari.

Hari loves chicken – which we already know.

But what I haven’t told you is that Hari is brilliant. He has an amazingly incisive mind. Only God can work the miracle of housing such a razor-sharp mind in such a balloon-ish body without bursting the balloon in the process. Hari helped all of us, and in particular Andy – fondly called the Nanga Parbat (remember the Castrol guy I was telling you about…same guy…..he was dumped by the storks in the hills of Mussoorie and used to roam around half naked on the block showing off his incipient muscles, hence the moniker) – clear our Accounts and Finance papers. Hari joined ICICI Securities from campus as an investment banker. I still recall Andy’s words when Hari got placed,

“Haahahhaaahaaaahaaaaaa……Hari, you loser, man! All that studdaapa in Finance, and you still could not get into a proper bank! They have taken you to become a part of the night Security at ICICI…..they will give you one of those peaked caps and a baton….and you can salute smartly and say “Salaam Shaab!”…..but come to think of it, you actually do look more like a security guard than a manager”

I think he said it in jest, but with Andy you never know. He might have actually believed that ICICI Security was a security firm with guards and all. Andy was above average in some ways, but way waay waaaay below average in his understanding and knowledge of many other things.

It is another small matter that that “Security Guard” made more in his first year than Andy doubled, and doubled once again for good measure.

(As Hari would have said mid-way through his many a binge at Kabab Magic…..To be continued)